His silhouette rests atop the hill, framed by ashen clouds and a bloodstained sky. The wooden planks reside on the skull-shaped rock, Golgatha. Flanked on either side by common criminals, he gives himself for such as these. Between them he hangs, his arms raised from his side as crimson blood streams down his forehead, mixing and dancing with the sweat and bitter vinegar. A violent shout escapes cracked lips as his face winces in the agony of death, oppressed by the weight of the whole earth and its one thousands sins. Tears do not escape his eyes as the scorching heat of hell evaporates them in a gust. Demons shriek and the devil rejoices as both the worlds of supernatural collide upon his chest. Desperation in his voice, he screams "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” The sky blackens, there are no stars to brighten this night. No holes to the heavens. Nothing remains but the coldest emptiness as the Creator averts his gaze, my human sin and filth too much for the Father bear. My Savior is left alone in death.
"When he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent. And the graves were opened." -Matthew 27:50-52 KJV
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